Chapter Five
Eomer woke with an unfamiliar weight across his chest. Hroth lay across him, his nose touching the blankets that wrapped the elf. Offa was stretching himself, the healer having lightly dozed in a sitting position through the night. Eomer's sleep had been deep and he felt better than he had in weeks. He pushed the dog off his chest. Hroth sniffed him once, satisfied that he was awake, and padded out of the tent.
Legolas stirred and Offa was instantly beside him, silently assessing the elf. He nodded to Eomer and fetched the potion he'd prepared in the night, carefully measuring some into a cup of water.
Legolas opened his eye, saw Eomer gazing at him, and smiled, before his torn and broken face protested. Eomer looked at him, watching the pain flit across the unbandaged areas before the stoicism took over again.
"Morning, love," Eomer whispered huskily. "Feeling better, I hope,"
Legolas made an unintelligible noise. Eomer sat up and reached for the cup Offa held out. He twisted the straw around and held it to the elf's lips. Legolas drank more easily today. Allowed more liquid, he relished it, taking his time instead of finishing the drink quickly.
"May I?" Offa asked, as Eomer moved out of the way allowing the healer to check the elf. He examined the eye, felt the pulse, rested a cool hand on the visible skin on the forehead. He ran through his questions once again, noting that the dizziness seemed to have passed, and the vision was starting to clear.
The healer nodded, pleased with the results, when the elf tried to pronounce his name. Through mangled lips it came out "Faa."
The dark eyes of the healer fixed on the pale one of the elf, giving him his complete attention. Legolas concentrated on the word he needed to say.
"Blind?" he rasped. Eomer started in horror, but the healer remained professional.
"I don't think so. Your other eye was injured and has been bandaged. There is no reason for taking chances with it while we travel. The vision in your good eye should be cleared up in the next day or two." The elf stared at him, almost as if he didn't believe the diagnosis. He forced words out.
"Woke. No light. Thought blind." A shudder convulsed him. "'Thought dead." Eomer felt cold chills down his spine, freezing him. Offa gently touched the elf's head, never losing eye contact with him.
"No, my Lord. You are very much alive. You have been seriously injured." Legolas stared at the man, confusion clouding his vision.
"How?" the elf groaned.
Eomer looked at Offa, stunned, but the healer never looked away from his patient.
"There was an accident, my Lord. Eomer is taking you to Meduseld, and we will do our best to get you there comfortably. The best thing for you right now is sleep. Don't try to talk to much, the medicine for the pain will make you very tired."
Legolas seemed satisfied with this.
"Thanks" he whispered. Offa nodded, stroked the forehead gently, and excused himself.
"That went well," Eomer told him, forcing the terror from his eyes, stretching himself, trying to smile. He reached out and caressed the side of the elf's face reassuringly. "Maybe you'll even be able to eat something soon."
Legolas twitched a lip. "Wanna.." he started.
Eomer interrupted, trying to provide the answers. "Wine? Tea? It'll probably be broth."
The eye flashed at him. "Wanna.." he began again, and this time Eomer was silent, allowing Legolas to finish. "Bath," he groaned.
Eomer stared at him and then began to laugh. Legolas glared at him some more. "I don't think we brought the tub," Eomer chuckled, "and Offa is not about to let me dunk you into the river."
The eye was not amused, and it took Eomer a moment to work it out. "I'll see what we can do, love. I did wash you, myself, night before last."
A twinkle in the eye this time, taking in the state of the man, dirt and bits of dried blood still caked to his hairline, his beard. The lip tried not to smile, lost. "Bath, 'Mer. Please.."
Offa, returning to the tent, had been true to his word and the elf began to slip back into the grip of the powerful medication. He seemed to realize what was happening and fought against it.
"No.." he protested, sleepily. "No more..."
Shh, love." Eomer said soothingly. "Rest. We'll take care of everything. It's easier for you if you sleep."
Eyelid drooping, it took only seconds for Legolas to drift off again.
Eomer began to question the healer about the elf's ignorance of his injuries, but Offa waved him silent. "Later" he whispered, motioning to the sleeping patient.
Eomer explained the bath situation, as they lowered the other side of the litter, and Offa began a more thorough examination.
"Of course, we'll take care of that," Offa said, no trace of a smile on his thin lips. "It's actually a good sign. It will be good for him to have a proper bath when the wounds are completely healed over. The warm water will relax the muscles. It may help the weals on the back as well."
Eomer, having learned his lesson the day before and determined not to be dismissed again followed Offa's directions, as they washed the elf, changed dressings, checked the splints and bundled him up again in fresh linen and blankets. Hroth returned, sniffed the elf several times, as if inspecting their work, then huffed gently and lay down beside the litter.
"I'm glad we have his approval," Eomer said. "I think he's more worried than I am."
"I don't know, but I might rather have him on his stomach tonight. I don't want too much pressure on those cuts on his back."
"What caused them? Eomer asked. "Can you tell."
"It doesn't make any sense. It looks like he's been beaten with branches. How can that be? What could swing a branch with that much force? To break the ribs? Did he fall from the top of a tree, through the limbs?"
"He doesn't fall out of trees, Offa."
"I don't understand it."
"Nor do I. But I intend to." Eomer offered, opening the tent flap to call for Higa. The smell of bacon and coffee in the morning sunshine made him realize how hungry he was.
"Why doesn't he know what happened to him?" Eomer asked, as Higa settled beside the sleeping elf, Hroth allowing him to take up the post. They strode to the campfire, filling plates with hot bread and bacon.
"Shock." Offa answered, filling his mug and drinking the steaming coffee with satisfaction. "There is only so much the mind can deal with at one time. All his energy must go to healing his body, so his mind will block out the other pain. He may never remember exactly what happened, it may all come back to him in a rush."
"So he may not have the Horrors at all?" Eomer asked, with hope in his voice.
Offa put his plate down, refilled his mug. "I think that whatever caused these injuries was traumatic enough to give the Horrors to old Gandalf himself. I don't want to give you false hope, Eomer. He may recover without them, but once the realization Gimli is gone hits him, I think it will set back whatever progress he's made to that point"
He sipped the hot coffee, looking out at the bright autumn sky. The rustle of horses being prepared for the day soothed them both, a regular sound of life in this most unusual circumstance.
"This isn't going to be easy for you, Eomer. I think you should know that at the beginning. I have seen this before, the relief that the patient will live seems to make any obstacle seem like nothing at all. It will not be easy for either of you and I want you to know that I am always available to you, any time, day or night, to help. Not just with him," and he gestured to the tent where the elf slept, "but for you."
Eomer looked at him blankly, then realized what Offa was saying, the magnitude of the task before them.
"Thank you," he said, simply and sincerely. They finished their food in silence, watching the wind blow the grasses in browning waves.
Leaving Offa to go and pack his medicines, Eomer spoke to Lothar, the other men in the escort gathering around. He explained the scream in the night, whispering the dreaded words, "the Horrors".
Every man there knew personally or of someone who had suffered from the debility. Pity was mirrored on the faces of the group, all of whom knew and liked the elf. They offered their support to Eomer and Legolas. Eomer, grateful for the kindness, nodded silently. He then went in search of Firefoot.
The big grey came at his whistle, leaving the remuda to nuzzle his rider. Eomer stroked the nose, scratched the ears and patted the flank. Satisfied that Eomer was well, Firefoot returned to the herd.
He ducked back into the tent, noticing how much warmer it was inside. He looked in on Legolas, who slept with his head slightly cantered to one side, taking the pressure off his mutilated ear. The big dog looked up at him once, then returned to his watch.
Offa came and stood behind him. "He's deeply asleep, now. We can move him as soon as the tents are packed up."
They broke camp quickly, not a difficult feat for a people who travelled with their herds. Eomer swung himself into the saddle, wishing they could gallop to Edoras, wishing Aragorn or Eowyn were there, wishing he had word from Halma, wishing he knew what to do.
When Halma's rider caught up with the convoy, his horse was exhausted, his face pale. He accepted a wineskin, pulling back on it heavily, then shuddered.
"What have you found?" Eomer demanded.
"My lord, we found the campsite. It had been destroyed, completely, there was" he shuddered again, "blood everywhere. It must have been an ambush, for there was no sign of defence or anything like that. There remains of a meal were scattered around the fire."
"Gimli! Did you find him?" Eomer asked, pale.
"We found this, my lord." The rider, handed a small box to Eomer. Then he turned and vomited up the wine.
Eomer opened the chest, to see part of the gloved hand of the dwarf. It had been ripped away from the wrist.
"The search continues, Eomer King, but Halma wanted you informed immediately. Whatever did this, it is barbaric!"
"Are the dogs no help?" Eomer asked. "Surely they can follow the trail."
"They seem confused. The trail itself is unusual. In one area there will be blood sign, then nothing for far too long, then blood again. Patches of earth torn up, branches down, then nothing for a while."
"What of the Ents? Any sign of them?"
"None, lord. Eothain is also searching for them, hoping they may know something."
"If something that horrible is walking Fangorn, I'm sure they do know something. Tell Halma and Eothain to scour every inch of that cursed place! If we have to, we'll burn it to the ground. That'll get Treebeard's attention."
Offa examined the hand, his eyes widening slightly, but it did not sicken him.
"It hasn't been cut or chewed," he said. "This has been torn right away. See how the leather itself has been ripped." He studied it with puzzled eyes. Eomer, watched in horrified fascination as he turned it over. Bits of twig were caught in the fingers of the glove.
"I still don't understand it," he told the king, putting the hand respectfully back in the box, wrapping it in cloth.
"We will, Offa." Eomer told him.